Change
by MorningstarGirl666
Summary: At first, Hermione had hated Draco Malfoy. During the war and the lead up to it, everything stopped being black and white, ending up a shade of grey that confused Hermione to the core. In the aftermath of the war, they created a bond that Draco dubbed as "frenemies", igniting the most unconventional friendship she had ever had. Then their friendship really caught on fire.
1. The Start Of Something

**Recently, my Harry-Potter-Mad brother introduced me the amazing world of Harry Potter. Unfortunately, I've kind of betrayed every Harry Potter fan by watching the movies first before reading the books, so I hope you all don't hate me all for that.**

 **However, even though I haven't read the books, fanfiction is all I needed to make me fall in love with the Dramione ship. Trust me, the amount of fanfiction I've read about Dramione is making me think I have a serious problem. But we're all mad here, right?**

 **If fanfiction wasn't enough, I stumbled upon this comment while skimming through pinterest and I feel it's my duty to share it with you people:**

* * *

 _ **"DRAMIONE? WHAT'S THAT?"**_

 _ **So you're probably thinking "oh, another bad-guy-falls-for-good-girl" pairing. But what you're not seeing is how this applies to the bigger picture Rowling wants to show us. Who is the enemy in the series? Voldermort, yes, but most importantly what he stands for: prejudice. Prejudice is the true enemy in HP, and that's what is so amazing about dramione. Draco is the quintessential metaphor of the racist/homophobe/misogynist in our society. Hermione is his polar opposite. As the victim, she represents the marginalized minority group. He's the oppressor, she's the oppressed. So "how can you ship them if they're so different?"**_

 _ **Because dramione is about Draco learning prejudice based on blood purity is immoral. It's about his character growth and how he matures throughout the war and it's aftermath. But most importantly, it's about his redemption as he realizes he was wrong. And who better to redeem him than a mudblood? Everyone always says that the power of love can overcome evil. If that holds true, then it can also overcome the deeply rooted prjudice of the wizarding world.**_

 _ **Dramione is not about crazy fans that think it's cute for a bully to fall in love with his victim. Dramione is about change.**_

* * *

 **Now, I don't know about you guys, but that really made my stomach churn with emotion. Whoever originally wrote that is completely right, not to mention a genius. Somehow, this story just formed in my head from just reading it, and before I knew it I was sitting at my computer writing it to make sure I didn't go insane.**

 **But enough about me. I hope you enjoy the start to this story and all I'll say about it is it's not your average dramione fanfiction, as well as it will eventually end up as a post-hogwarts fic.**

 **So, without further ado, enjoy! :)**

* * *

The first time Hermione Granger met Draco Malfoy, she had decided right away he was a complete idiot. Not because he wasn't intelligent (he was always second in their class, bested only by her) but actually because he was an arrogant, egotistical and quite frankly, a prat. However, she didn't start to truly hate him until he called her a Mudblood.

Mudblood. Merlin, did she hate that name, more so than Malfoy at the time. She tried to be unaffected by it, to convince herself that it was just a name that meant nothing if she made sure it had no power over her. But the problem was, it did have power over her, meaning every time Malfoy called her Mudblood, or referenced her blood in any way, her heart would ache and her stomach would churn, as if he had hurt her physically rather than with words.

So she hated him and continued to hate him for the first few years of her time at Hogwarts. In their second year, a certain ripped page about basilisks ended up in her bag rather suspiciously. She would never rip a page out of a book, which is why she knew for sure she hadn't put it there. All of her other friends, including Harry and Ron, would never be found in the library, or reading any kind of book if they didn't have to. They left that kind of research to her, so she knew it hadn't been them who had misplaced the small piece of paper. At the time though, she didn't question it as it helped all three of them understand what was going on and later, how to stop it.

In their third year, she would be lying to herself if she said she hadn't been worried when Malfoy was injuried by Buckbeak. She was also still very aware he was a complete and utter drama queen, but he still got hurt and to her despair, that was enough to make her insides flip with worry and her heart quicken with anxiety. Personally, she blamed it on her raging hormones and the fact that if Malfoy wasn't an infuriating git, he'd actually look handsome.

Of course, the fact still stood that he was an foul, loathsome, evil, little cockcroach, which was one of the many reasons why she had taken much pleasure in punching him in the face that year too.

His insults certainly diminished in frequency after that, his cruelty often more focused on Harry and Ron, rather than her. By the time fourth year started, he still sent a sneer her way, or a cruelly placed utterance of 'Mudblood', but never as often. To be fair, she was busy sharing her attention between trying to help keep Harry alive in the Triwizard Tournament and trying not to get to caught up in the fact she was falling in love with Ron, so it was no surprise that she never noticed the subtle change in Malfoy's behavior towards her.

She had probably always suspected there was more to him that meets the eye, especially when she had met his father. It had certainly explained a lot and made her realize that maybe Malfroy acted the way he acted not because it was his nature to do so, but because of his nurture.

However, even then, she still looked at Malfoy without actually _seeing_ him, and it wasn't until the Yule Ball that year that she truly got a glimpse of a different side to the Slytherin Prince.

* * *

 _The Yule Ball, Hogwarts_

When Harry and Ron left, Hermione instantly fell down to sit on the steps, sobs already sending shudders through her body as she feebly tried to take her heeled shoes off her feet. People were still dancing in the Great Hall but most were starting to happily file out of the Hall with their dates on their arms, laughing and chatting as they made their way back to their dorms. No one noticed her though. No one ever did.

Except this time.

A pair of polished black shoes suddenly entered Hermione's vision as she stared at the stone at her feet, her vision blurred by the tears that cascaded down her cheeks. She'd heard his footsteps approach but she hadn't expected him to notice her, and certainly never expected the voice that greeted her.

"Granger?"Hermione looked up to see the face of the one and only Draco Malfoy, finely dressed in probably the most expensive suit she had ever seen. A slight frown was on his face, and if she hadn't known any better, she would say a slight trace of concern had been lacing his voice.

She furiously wiped the tears away with her hand, frowning right back up at him. She was not going to cry in front of him, she would at least save some of her dignity.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" She snapped bitterly, looking back down to her feet while she waited for him to sneer or throw an insult at her, maybe even mock how pathetic she looked. When no insult came, she looked back up at him, that weird frown still on his face. He looked concerned, angry and conflicted all at the same time, if that were even possible. It was definitely very different to the cold sneering façade she normally received from him.

If that wasn't enough to confuse her, instead of answering her, he silently moved to sit down on the steps right next to her. Before she could even think to protest, his arm had wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her into the most unexpected hug she had ever been at receiving end of. At first, her whole body stiffened at the sudden contact but when he did nothing else, showing all he wanted to do was to comfort her, she relaxed, welcoming the warmth that radiated from his body. Seconds later her emotions overwhelmed her again, her mind totally forgetting the vow she had made to make sure Malfoy didn't witness her crying. He kept hold of her even when she sobbed into his jacket, never once saying a word.

She didn't remember much after that. At some point, Hermione must have stopped crying because eventually her breaths evened out, shudders no longer running through her every time a sob racked her body. But she didn't move away. Even when there were no more tears to fall, Hermione stayed in Malfoy's arms, no energy left to protest against the warm embrace that he had offered her.

And, after what seemed hours, Hermione eventually succumbed to the blissful darkness, silently falling asleep in Malfoy's arms.

* * *

Draco silently walked through the corridors of Hogwarts, a sleeping Hermione Granger laying limply in his strong arms. When the Griffindor muggleborn had fallen asleep in his arms, he knew that he couldn't stay there. For one thing, if anyone saw her unconscious in his arms, he knew questions would be raised, questions he'd rather not answer. However, he hadn't liked the idea of leaving her there or waking her either - she deserved at least a few hours of peaceful rest after what the Weasel had put her through.

Draco had instantly disliked the Weasel for several reasons; being a blood-traitor, hanging around with Potter, and for just being a Weasley. However, Draco didn't truly hate him until he'd made Hermione cry. He was still trying to work out _why_ he felt such deep hatred for the red head, but that train of thought was easily discarded when he eventually decided on carrying her back to her dorms before he returned to his, hoping that no one saw him on the way there. Granger hadn't even stirred when he had picked her up and now the muggleborn's face was snuggled quite comfortably into his neck. Merlin knows that if he bumped into someone like Zabini he'd never hear the end of it.

Thankfully though, no one had noticed him yet since it was rather late at night, students either in their dorms by now or still down in the Great Hall. When he approached the Griffindor dormitories, Draco couldn't help but sigh in relief. Of course, that was when he realized he had no idea how to get in.

As soon as he had come to Hogwarts, Draco had made sure he knew all the passwords for the House common rooms and dormitories. The problem was, he knew for a fact that Potter and Weasel had already returned to their dorms, and if they caught him sneaking their unconscious best friend into her bed... Well, Draco knew it wouldn't end well.

After standing silently in front of the Fat Lady's Portrait for a while debating what to do, the Fat Lady herself scowling at him, Draco finally made a decision. He had to knock.

Hoping for Salazar's sake that it wasn't Potter or Weasel that answered, Draco shifted Granger's limp form in his arms so that he could knock on the portrait, before shifting her weight back and taking a step back himself.

For a second, he thought no one would come and answer, but then the Fat Lady's portrait swung open, revealing the Griffindor common room behind it, as well as a certain red-headed girl. The Weaselette.

" _Malfoy?_ " She exclaimed incredulously, gaping at the sight of him carrying the sleeping form of Granger in his arms. To be fair, he couldn't exactly blame her. He hadn't exactly expected this scenario to occur either.

"Weaselette." He greeted, sending a scowl her way. He knew she was definitely better than the Weasel himself, and certainly wouldn't jump to conclusions like her older brother had the tendency to do, but after what Weasel had done to Granger, he didn't want to be in any close proximity to any of the Weasleys right now. For some illogical reason, the mere sight of red hair made him want to punch something.

"Why...Hermione...How...What?" The young girl struggled to form a question, or even a sentence for that matter. Draco just raised a blonde eyebrow at her.

"I don't think that's even a solid sentence, Weaselette, let alone a question." Oh, and look at that. She was back to glaring at him again.

"What did you _do_ , Malfoy?" She demanded, moving forward to try and get a better view of Granger. Draco didn't step back, but he couldn't stop the way he reflexively tightened his grip on Granger.

" _I_ didn't do anything. Granger fell asleep on one of the stairs in a corridor. If I hadn't nearly tripped over her, I doubt anyone would have noticed her." Draco ground out, scowling harder at her instant accusation. Although he couldn't say that what he said was the truth, Draco found himself thinking it wasn't exactly a blatant lie either. Even though Granger had been obviously crying her heart out, no one had approached her, not even a concerned Hufflepuff. In fact, it was rather ironic how he, a pureblood slytherin, was the only one brave enough to go and comfort her.

Why had he comforted her again?

"Oh." The Weaselette dumbly answered, her anger somewhat dissipating. She looked Draco up and down again rather warily, before finally relaxing. Obviously, she had decided he wasn't an immediate threat. "I suppose you better carry her in then."

Still not lifting the scowl, Draco walked into the Griffindor common room as the Weaselette moved out of the way, the door closing behind him. He looked around, taking in the warm red and gold colours that surrounded him, trying his best not to vomit. His face must have revealed what he was thinking for the Weaselette rolled her eyes at him before marching over to the stairs.

"Follow me, Malfoy." She ordered, not waiting for his response. Typical g _irls_.

Draco followed her up the stairs, unconsciously taking extra care of the sleeping Granger still being carried in his arms. Her face was still snuggled against his chest, not that he was complaining. When the Weaselette noticed, Draco found himself glaring at the way she smirked knowingly.

"Something amusing to you, Weasley?" He snapped, rather too quickly. His irritated response only made the damn girl smirk wider.

"No, not at all, Malfoy." She answered, a bit too cheerily for his taste. He only scowled harder at her in response as they turned right and carried on down to the girls dormitories. "Lavender and Parvati aren't back yet, so you should be able to get in and out without being noticed." She explained, whispering as they got closer.

Draco just sent her a slight nod to show he had heard her, stopping outside the dorm entrance as he waited for her to open the door. Once she had entered, he followed after her, his eyes scanning the large room. There were five beds inside, all with sheets in griffindor colours, the tell tale image of strewn make up bottles and discarded dresses making him well aware it was a girls room.

"Which bed is hers?" He asked, turning to the red-haired girl beside him.

"The one near the window. Hermione likes to sit on the windowsill while she reads." Draco rolled his eyes at her comment. Like _he_ needed to be reminded of Granger's nerdy love of books.

As soon as he had walked over to her bed, Draco immediately leaned down, gently placing Granger on top of the covers. When he started to move away though, his face still inches away from Grangers, the sleeping Griffindor stirred.

"Malfoy..." She murmured, causing Draco to freeze in shock. When her eyes didn't open and her breathing slowed again, indicating she had fallen back asleep, Draco's eyes widened in surprise.

After straightening back up, his features impassive once again, he turned back around, pausing only momentarily to nod awkwardly to the Weaselette, before leaving the dormitory and making his way back to the entrance to the Griffindor Tower.

When he finally made his way back to his own dorm and got changed out of his dress robes, more or less collapsing into his bed, Draco couldn't stop the small smile that graced his normally sneering features.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione had woken up in the dormitories still clothed in her ball gown. When she asked Ginny how she had got back to their dorm since Lavender and Parvati had no clue, the ginger witch had crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow.

"You know, Hermione, I was actually going to ask you something similar." She stated, scanning Hermione from head to foot.

"Why do you say that?" Hermione asked, her face contorting into a confused frown. Ginny's eyebrow had then only risen higher, before shrugging as a knowing smile crawled onto her face.

"Well, when Draco Malfoy bangs on the Griffindor common room door late at night, carrying a sleeping Hermione Granger, one can only get curious." Ginny tried to deliver her statement as nonchalantly as possible, but by the end Hermione eyes had widened so comically that Ginny couldn't help but snicker at her friend's face.

"Malfroy carried me here?" Hermione asked incredulously, summing up what Ginny had said.

"Yep." Ginny grinned at Hermione's reaction, popping the 'p' with more enthusiasm than necessary. "He didn't say much except that you had fallen asleep on the steps in one of the corridors. He muttered something about him only bringing you back because he'd nearly tripped over you. However, I had the distinct impression that he was lying." Ginny moved to make her bed as she said this, plumping the pillows while she sent another knowing smirk Hermione's way.

"Why did you think that?" Hermione managed to ask, a blush already heating up her cheeks.

"It was the way he was carrying you, all bridal style. Your face was even snuggled up against his chest and although he had no problem about showing his distaste about being in my presence, he certainly didn't seem bothered about being so close to _yours_." At Ginny's words, Hermione's faint blush had all but transformed into full on embarrassment, her cheeks as red as Ginny's hair.

"Of course," Ginny added, her grin widening, "there was also the fact that you muttered 'Malfoy' in your sleep just before he left."

Hermione gaped at her. The ginger witch just snickered, her hand coming up to her mouth to try and stop it.

"Did Malfoy hear me?"Hermione urgently asked when she recovered.

"Since he was placing you on your bed – rather gently may I add- at the time, centimeters from your face, I'd say he did. He certainly paused for something, whether in shock we'll never know."

Hermione stared. Ginny just snickered again.

"Oh Merlin, help me." Hermione finally breathed, falling onto her bed. Ginny came to sit down next to her, the smile still on her face. "Please don't tell Harry and Ron."Hermione sent Ginny a pleading look.

"My lips are sealed." Ginny smiled at Hermione in reassurance, even if she was finding the whole situation amusing.

"Thanks, Ginny."

"No problem." Ginny smiled again before moving to leave the dormitory, intending to go down and get breakfast. However, she had time to leave one last bombshell. "After all, it's none of my business who you have a crush on. Plus, Malfoy is _gorgeous_."

Ginny barely dodged the pillow that was thrown at her head.


	2. Blood Relations

**Just wanted to warn everyone that this is obviously an AU fanfic because of dramione, but I have and will use quite a few different headcanons not related to the ship. You'll see what I mean once you've read this. Its just my way of progressing the change in Hermione's feelings toward Draco.**

 **Hope you enjoy :)**

* * *

True to her word, Ginny did not tell Harry and Ron about how Malfoy had carried Hermione back to the dormitories the night of the Yule Ball. In exchange, Hermione did end up having to tell Ginny what had happened - about how Ron and Malfoy had acted that night. When Hermione was finished, the ginger witch had called her brother a few horrid names that Molly Weasley would have scolded her daughter for, much to Hermione's amusement. Ron had been acting like a jerk lately, not asking her to the Yule Ball and then having the nerve to act jealous when she showed up with Krum. It's not like Hermione hadn't dropped hints either – she thought she had made it blatantly obvious that she wanted Ron to take her to the ball, and Ginny agreed with her. The boys acted if she wasn't a girl, a girl that just like the rest, fantasized over boyfriends and crushes, fretting over looks and dresses. She wasn't as open about those kinds of things as some girls, but that didn't mean she didn't think about them.

Of course, after the anger aimed at her brother had worn off, Ginny had also turned the conversation back to Malfoy. Somehow, the younger witch had gotten into her head that Malfoy had some kind of crush on her. Hermione naturally thought that was just preposterous, even more so when Ginny claimed that sometimes people had a love/hate relationship. The idea that sometimes the people you argue with are sometimes the ones you like was also mentioned. Hermione didn't need to say what she thought of that. Her glare was communication enough.

In the beginning, she had planned on confronting Malfoy about what had happened that night, so confused by his actions as she was. However, Malfoy didn't treat her any differently than he had done before, acting as if him consoling her that night had never happened. Hermione was fine with that. It was definitely easier that way, not having to think about the implications if Malfoy suddenly ended up being nice, out of all things.

Moreover, the events that occurred at the end of the year were enough to distract her from Malfoy's out of character behavior. As soon as Harry had appeared kneeling over Cedric, Hermione knew in her gut something was wrong. When Harry didn't stop screaming about You-Know-Who being back from the dead, tears rolling down his cheeks as refused to leave Cedric's body; Hermione had felt the coldest fear she had in her life.

Some would even say that was the year the war started, which Hermione couldn't help but agree with. As soon as Cedric was announced dead, their childhood had ended, all of them thrust into a conflict that they had no control over.

That was the day when they had become soldiers.

During their fifth year, Hermione didn't notice Malfoy much. As usual, he did his best to annoy and belittle Harry to his best abilities, adding another large heap of torment to her already grieving best friend. Most of the time she was too busy trying to train in the Room of Requirement or trying to fool Umbridge to notice any more than that. However, when Malfoy joined the Inquisitorial Squad, Hermione could not say she was surprised. To be fair, no one could.

What did surprise her though, was a conversation she overheard between Malfoy and Luna Lovegood that year.

* * *

Hermione silently left the Room of Requirement, many of Dumbledore's Army still inside. Luna had left only minutes before her to retire for the night and Hermione intended to catch up to the blond girl so that she could borrow the girl's transfiguration notes. Hermione had repeatedly gotten more and more distracted in class that year, and even though she'd never admit it to the boys, even she was struggling to keep her grades up while Umbridge ruled with an iron fist. Hopefully, the blond haired ravenclaw could offer Hermione the help she needed.

Sending cautious glances down both ends of the corridor, Hermione finally set off, quickening her pace in an effort to catch up with Luna. She only just spotted the ravenclaw turn the corner, opting not to call out to her in case someone heard them. Instead, she began to run to catch her up in fear of loosing sight of her.

When Hermione rounded to corner, she couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief when she saw Luna was still there, quietly walking down the corridor, oblivious to Hermione's presence.

However, much to Hermione's shock, a hand suddenly appeared from inside one of the alcoves, along with a flash of platinum blonde hair, just before Luna was grabbed and hauled into the alcove the arm had popped out from. It was so fast and so sudden that Hermione barely registered the yelp Luna had made when she'd been grabbed.

Thinking fast, Hermione instantly pulled her wand out from her pocket, quietly muttering a concealment charm. It was no invisibility cloak, but it would at least give her the element of surprise. Then, fully intending to save Luna from whoever had grabbed her, Hermione slowly crept forward. As she got closer, the sound of hushed voices greeted her ears.

"What exactly do you think you're doing, Luna? Do you have a deathwish?" A familiar voice asked, though Hermione couldn't place it. She knew by the tone it was male, and although he more or less growled the question out, Hermione couldn't help but notice the concern that laced the words.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, Draco." Hermione stopped in her tracks at the sound of Luna whispering Malfroy's name. Not believing her ears, she craned her neck to see round the corner of the wall, finally getting a glimpse of Luna's captor.

Sure enough, Malfoy was there, his hands holding Luna's arms in a vice like grip. His features were not set in their usual sneer, but rather an expression of frustrated anger, his hair hanging over his furious eyes. Luna didn't look scared though and she certainly was making no move to escape Malfoy's grasp. It was then that Hermione remembered Malfoy had called Luna by her first name and not the usual 'Looney Lovegood' nickname everyone had bestowed upon her. Malfoy hadn't even called her by her surname, which only served to confuse Hermione more.

"Luna, you do realize you're a very bad liar." Malfoy commented in response, his grip loosening a bit. Luna just raised an eyebrow at him, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Just like how you're a bad liar?" She countered, much to Hermione's surprise. Malfoy had seemed a little taken aback by that too and finally let go of Luna altogether.

"Since when was I a bad liar?" He asked, folding his arms across his chest. Hermione, although it pained her to admit it, had to say she agreed with him. Slytherins were known to be very good liars and had a reputation for getting out of detentions because of their cunning nature.

"You lie with your face, Draco, but not your eyes. Your eyes always tell a different story." Luna explained, shrugging afterwards. Although Hermione had turned back to hide behind the wall, her vision of both of them lost, but she could still feel the glare Malfoy had sent Luna's way.

"I know about Dumbledore's Army, Luna. I also know Potter has been training everyone in the Room of Requirement after class hours." Malfoy stated after a few seconds of silence, his voice stern and much colder than before.

"And you want me to show you the way in?" Luna guessed, rather timidly. Hermione had instantly thought the same thing, knowing Malfoy would try and force Luna to open the door up for him.

"No."

Wait, what?

Hermione blinked, her mind trying to process what she had heard. She craned her head round the corner of the wall again, glimpsing Malfoy's face. His fingers were rubbing his temple now and for the first time in her life, Hermione actually thought Draco Malfoy looked tired.

"Look, I'm not going to rat you out to Umbridge, Luna. You should know that." Malfoy locked eyes with Luna then, his eyes softening. "Even if you weren't my cousin, I'd never send anyone to answer to that bitch's mercy."

Hermione blinked. Then she blinked again. Luna was Draco Malfoy's cousin?

"Technically, I'm your disowned cousin, Draco." Luna innocently pointed out. Malfoy glared at her but this time Hermione noticed the way his eyes flickered with amusement. He eventually shook his head, running his fingers through his hair.

"Look, Luna I'm just trying to warn you. Sooner or later the Inquisitorial Squad are going to find a way into the Room of Requirement and then I can't protect you. You need to be careful."

"Yet you don't want me to stop going?" Luna asked frowning, head tilted slightly. Malfoy didn't answer, making Luna frown harder, before her eyes widened slightly.

"Harry is right, isn't he? He is back." Luna asked this time. At the mention of You-Know-Who, Malfoy visibly tensed, his eyes avoiding Luna's face altogether. His reaction was all Luna needed to know. Hermione watched as she looked down to the floor, the two of them dissolving into silence.

A silence, that Hermione realized, was heavy with fear.

"Can I go now?" Luna whispered after a while, not looking up from the floor. Malfoy instantly moved out of her way.

"Be careful, Luna." He whispered to her, making the blond girl pause momentarily as she left.

"You too, Draco." She whispered back, sending Malfoy a worried glance of her own before leaving.

Malfoy stayed hidden under the cover of shadows for a while longer, waiting until Luna's footsteps disappeared altogether before stepping out and walking away himself. When his footsteps finally grew too far away for Hermione to hear them, she finally dropped the concealment charm.

What in Merlin's name was going on?


	3. Suspicions

**Just a word to the wise, they may be quite a few grammar or spelling mistakes in this chapter. I wrote it quite quickly and quite late at night so yeah... sorry if there are.**

 **Thanks for the reviews, favorites and follows by the way. To be fair, I'm only writing this story to get it out of my system, so to speak, and didn't expect much interest.**

 **I also wanted to make you all aware that I'm trying to keep the story line as canon as possible, obviously with a few _slight_ tweaks. I hope you'll like it this way ;)**

* * *

During the months afterwards, Hermione's mind often drifted back to the conversation she had overheard between Luna and Malfoy. The new information she had learned had only succeeded in confusing her more, giving her more questions than answers. She found herself, not for the first time, completely revaluating everything she knew about the Slytherin Prince. Sure, she still hated him with every fibre of her being, and he certainly still acted like she was nothing but dirt underneath his feet, but now there was a feeling of something else there too. What that feeling was, she had no idea, and a part of her didn't exactly want to know.

Being the intelligent girl she was, she analysed the conversation she had overheard in her head thousands of times, picking apart everything both Luna and Malfoy had said again and again. She knew there had to be a reason why their blood relationship was not common knowledge, and since she was not keen on confronting Luna or Malfoy about it, she had to work it out on her own.

In the end, her conclusion had been simple and something she was already aware of: Malfoys were egotistical bastards. Since Hermione knew Luna wasn't related to the Black family, she could only assume Luna's mother had been Lucius' sister, and therefore, she had been disowned by the Malfoy family simply because they didn't approve of the union between her and Luna's father, or maybe her choices. Luna's mother would have been completely wiped off the Malfoy family records, just like Sirius had been, meaning no one would be aware of the blood relationship between the Malfoys and Lovegoods, except for the family members themselves.

Of course, that didn't answer the question of why Malfoy was friends with Luna. After all, why would Malfoy be friendly to a disowned and shamed member of the family? Why would he warn her? Why would he even _care_?

Malfoy was the Slytherin Prince. A pureblood. He was even the heir to the Malfoy wealth and all the pride and arrogance that came with it. So why be friends with Luna? Luna, who had the nickname 'Looney' Lovegood and was considered weird throughout the school?

She knew why Luna was friendly to Malfoy – Luna didn't care about what people thought about her, or what people thought about others. She didn't care about who Malfoy was or how he acted. She treated everyone equally, no matter their reputation, blood status or beliefs. It was a trait that Hermione admired Luna for, and was thankful for too. Luna didn't care if she was a muggleborn. She didn't call her a 'Mudblood' like other people did.

Like Malfoy did.

It was the reason why she had completely denied the only plausible explanation – Malfoy was just being _kind_. Even if she didn't deny it, 'Malfoy' and 'kind' didn't belong in the same sentence, let alone in association. So she denied it, just like she had done after the Yule Ball. But even then, deep down, a part of her still whispered ' _what if you're wrong?'_.

As the months passed and the O.W.L.S approached, her mind began distracted again with school work and training in the DA. When she managed to produce a full body pratronus, along with many others, she couldn't help but feel proud about what her, Harry and Ron had achieved. Those precious few weeks were the brightest, the severity of the upcoming war seeming less daunting every time they mastered another spell. However, like everything good in the world at that time, it didn't last.

When Umbridge had blasted the wall away, revealing all of them in the room of requirement, Hermione had known instantly that their time was up. At the sight of Draco dragging Cho into view, she felt a sudden surge of anger that made her want to punch him again, preferably more than once. That familiar sneer was on his face along with an almost smug, even trumphant expression, his eyes cold and hard as he surveyed the room. Or at least, she had thought they were.

Due to what Luna had said, Hermione couldn't help but stare into his cold grey eyes. Of course, when his eyes flicked to Luna, concern flooding them for only a second, so fast no one but her noticed, Hermione knew the blonde ravenclaw had been right. His eyes really did tell a different story.

She didn't dwell on the recently learned information though as not long after that Dumbledore fled from Hogwarts, giving Umbridge full power over the school. Later in the year, when they were hauled to Umbridge's office, Hermione kept her eyes discreetly trained on Malfoy and noticed more than once how his eyes would flick nervously to Luna, especially when Umbridge declared she was going to use the cruciatus curse on Harry. It wasn't a surprise when she noticed Luna sent a few glances Malfoy's way either.

The events that occurred after that, from the centaurs attack on Umbridge to the sudden official return of Voldermort, meant she rarely got the chance to muse over Malfoy's actions. When Lucius Malfoy and his fellow Death Eaters who had sought the prophecy were imprisoned in Azkaban for their crimes, Hermione had instantly been reminded of Draco Malfoy, especially since his face was plastered all over the Prophet due to his status as the son of a Death Eater.

Furthermore, her inability to get Malfoy out of her head only doubled when she started her sixth year. Harry, constantly thinking about what had happened in Diagon Alley, had been convinced that Malfoy was a Death Eater. Though she didn't want to admit it, she found herself suspecting the same thing, however much she tried to convince herself that Malfoy wouldn't do it, not after what she had learned about the different side to him that he made sure no one saw, including her. But deep inside, she knew that Harry was probably right.

She didn't know why she felt the need to defend him, or why she never told Harry and Ron about what she had found out about Malfoy and Luna. Eventually, she stopped questioning her actions and carried on, ignoring everything all over again. She was good at that, ignoring things.

She was easily distracted when she stepped up to smell the amortentia potion in Slughorn's class, instantly recognizing the scent she normally associated with Ron. Later, when in the comfort of her own dorms, she had spilled the news to Ginny quite sheepishly, the ginger girl squealing in delight. Hermione herself had felt a sense of childish joy too, even if, rather bizarrely, she felt a little disappointed at the same time. Her mind could never figure out the reason why, even if her heart was smiling knowingly by that point.

As the year continued, with Malfoy's actions getting increasingly suspicious by the day, Hermione couldn't stand ignoring the problem any longer. Harry, being the impulsive and sometimes complete idiot he was, only needed to be pushed one more time before he'd end up confronting Malfoy, which Hermione knew would only lead to violence, making the situation ten times worse.

They were _boys_ after all.

So, Hermione decided to do what Harry should have done from the beginning: she was going to talk to Malfoy. Truthfully speaking, it was safe to say everything didn't exactly go to plan…

* * *

She was walking with Harry and Ron when Malfoy passed them in the corridor. He was walking with a group of other slytherins, unusually quiet and resigned. Ever since they had returned for their sixth year Hermione had noticed how differently he acted, not even a mocking smile gracing his features just once, or any smile for that matter. He had snarled and sneered just like normal, but never smiled. As he passed her, his face remained blank, his posture more slightly slouched than she ever remembered it to be while his skin looked paler than ever before, making the bags underneath his eyes stand out all the more predominately. His whole appearance made him look almost _ill_.

When he passed her, he didn't even seem to notice her, which made Hermione feel offended. He could have at least _sneered_ at her, for normalacy's sake.

Finding the courage she had been looking for, Hermione finally decided now was the time to confront Malfoy. Quickly thinking of an excuse, Hermione told Harry and Ron that she needed a book from the library before turning back around to follow Malfoy. She couldn't believe her luck when Malfoy broke away from the group of slytherins to carry on down a different corridor. Now, she would definitely have no trouble getting him alone.

Merlin, that sounded wrong.

Suppressing a shudder of disgust, Hermione continued down the corridor, muttering a silencio spell to hide the sound of her footsteps slamming down on the cold stone floors. She soon found herself finding it hard to keep up with the slytherin prince because he was walking so fast. Still, when he turned down a corridor that Hermione knew would be deserted at this time of day, she quickened her pace, intending to finally confront him. She readjusted her bag on her shoulder, slightly running as she neared the corner, turning it only to-

-stop dead in her tracks.

Hermione blinked. Malfoy wasn't walking down the corridor. In fact, Hermione couldn't see him _anywhere._ So, that begged the question, where the hell was he?

Continuing more tentatively this time, Hermione carried on down the corridor, her frown deepening with each step. She swore to Godric, if she had took a wrong turning she was going to to be so angry with herself-

Suddenly, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her from behind, one hand covering her mouth as the other wrapped around her waist. She tried to scream as the strong arms pulled her backwards, but the sound was muffled by the hand that covered her mouth. She tried to struggle, kicking and jumping up, but that only made her captor tighten his grip on her waist and pull he up as well as backwards, meaning her feet kicked thin air rather than the floor.

Before she could do anything, she had been dragged into one of the empty classrooms that were found along the corridor, her captor spinning her before pushing her to the floor. While he turned to lock the door behind them, Hermione instantly steeled herself as she grabbed her wand out of her bag, standing up to face her assailant before he could grab her again.

Needless to say, she hadn't been expecting to see Draco Malfoy in front of her.

Taking advantage of her shock, even if momentary, Malfoy instantly moved, and fast. Hermione barely saw a blur of his platinum blonde hair before he had grabbed her wrist, smacking the wand out her hand at the same time he slammed her against the wall. Her wand skittered across the floor, far out of reach, making her instantly feel white hot panic race through her already adrenalin filled veins. When she finally took in the fact Malfoy had just subdued her without a wand, her fear only increased. If he could do this _without_ magic, how the hell was she going to defend herself against him when he _had_ his wand?

Starting to struggle again, panic overriding her thoughts, she tried to escape his strong hold. It seemed to only tighten the more she struggled, which only succeeded in making her panic further.

"Granger." Her addressed her, but she ignored him, still struggling. She hadn't noticed his tone was soft, or the way his eyes had looked pleading.

Finally, she managed to kick him in the shin, which immediately made him loosen his hold her as he winced in pain. Making a break for the door, she intended to get as far away as possible from him but then he chose that moment to wrap his arms around her waist from behind again, preventing her escape.

"Let me go, you damn ferret!" She screamed at him, kicking and struggling all over again, pounding her fists against his arms that had circled her waist. However, Malfoy's hold didn't waver this time, his Quidditch training providing him a strong athletic build that had no problem restraining her.

" _Granger._ " He growled her name this time, forcefully slamming her against the wall again. His tone instantly made her stop struggling, not that she could continue. In order to prevent her from kicking him in the shin again, Malfoy had pressed his body against her, trapping her between him and the stone wall behind her. "Stop. Struggling." He growled out through his teeth, almost if he was trying to hold back his anger. She certainly noticed the way his eyes had flashed with a dangerous fury she hadn't seen before, those grey eyes no longer looking hollow. She really shouldn't have kicked him.

"What do you want?" She snapped defiantly back at him, deciding not to head butt him, since that was the only option left. In response, he raised one sophisticated eyebrow at her, the anger although still present in his eyes, somewhat dissipating as it was replaced with amusement.

"Funny, I was about to ask you the very same thing since you were the one following _me_." Hermione didn't have a response to that. She _had_ been following him, but that was only _because_ he had been acting suspicious lately. So, technically, this was all his fault.

Of course, from the look on his face, he begged to differ.

"Did you curse Katie?" She finally decided to ask. Harry had been very convinced Malfoy was responsible for the whole fiasco, and Hermione intended to find out the truth when she confronted him. Although everything hadn't gone to plan, she might as well get something out of him. Reactions told people everything you wanted to know.

Unless, of course, you're Draco Malfoy and remain stubbornly impassive, portraying no emotion whatsoever.

"Asking another question isn't an acceptable answer, _Mudblood_. Why are you avoiding the question?" He sneered at her, Hermione purposefully ignoring the name he had called her. Her heart had clenched tightly at the sound of it coming from his lips, but she pushed it away, deep down where it wouldn't break her resolve.

So, Malfoy wanted a battle of wits? She would bloody give him a battle of wits.

"Funny, I was about to ask you the very same thing." She stated, repeating what he had said previously on purpose. Malfoy noticed and glared at her, which she responded with by smiling sweetly at him. Not surprisingly, that only made him glare harder.

There was a long pause after that, though Hermione swore not to be the one to break it, or break eye contact with Malfoy. If Luna was right, his eyes would eventually reveal something. Moreover, if he was the one to break the silence, then maybe he might reveal something to her by accident.

"What makes you think I cursed Katie?" Malfoy asked, breaking the silence as he took a step backwards, giving her space again. He crossed his arms across his chest, sending the message through body language rather than physical contact that she shouldn't run.

Looks like she was right, though. Although Malfoy had been speaking hypothetically, it was clear he was far from innocent, else he would never have asked the question. His eyes also seemed to flutter with something Hermione could only guess was anxiety, which only confirmed her suspicions further.

"I don't. Harry does. However, your reaction just confirmed his suspicions." She replied back calmly, waiting to see what Malfoy said next.

"Oh, _really_?" Malfoy drawled, that eyebrow rising higher as chilling grin settled across his features. "If you're such a know-it-all, Granger, then what makes you think I won't do the same to you?" He leaned closer, bringing his face dangerously close to hers. If he was trying to intimidate her, he was succeeding.

"You just won't." Hermione knew her voice sounded weak even to her ears, a thought that was only confirmed when he grinned wider.

"Are you sure about that, Granger? What's stopping me from cursing you? Or better yet, what's stopping me from doing something worse, like, I don't know, using an unforgivable curse?" He smirked at her shocked reaction, the grin just widening tenfold. "Scared, are we, Granger?" He asked.

He was right - Hermione was scared, though shocked more than anything, but not at is obvious admission to knowing how to use the unforgivable curses. She was shocked at the way his eyes had flashed when he had said it, emotions she didn't normally associate with him flashing across the grey orbs. Although she didn't know what all of them had been, she knew one thing for certain - he was lying.

He'd never hurt her.

She was still trying to figure _how_ she knew that, but for the time being, while his face was centimeters from hers, she settled for she just _knew_.

"You're lying. You'd never hurt me." She stated before her mind could filter her thoughts. She hadn't intended to be that blunt about it, but it had certainly shocked him. He had leant back and was frowning now, the grin completely wiped of his face.

"Why the hell would you think that?" He demanded, a little too defensive in Hermione's opinion. She'd definitely hit a nerve then.

"You're eyes tell a different story." Again, Hermione had no idea why she had answered with _that_. She knew Malfoy would instantly recognize the words, which was only confirmed when his eyes narrowed into slits as her glared down at her.

"That was a private conversation, _Mudblood_." He snarled, shock gone now that anger had morphed his features again. Hermione didn't cower though, and certainly stopped herself from reacting to the name.

"You mean, the conversation between you and your _cousin_?" Malfoy's eyes widened slightly at her comment. Obviously, he hadn't thought she'd overheard much. "Yes, that's right Malfoy. I know your Luna's cousin. I still haven't quite figured out why you are friends with her - or why she's friends with you for that matter-" Malfoy glared at her at that particular comment. "but I will. Just like how I'll figure out just what exactly you're trying to achieve." She declared, finished with her rant. Taking advantage of his obviously still shocked state, she wandlessly muttered a summoning spell, her wand instantly arriving in her hand. Before he could react, she raised it and pointed it right at him, the threat perfectly clear.

"Now, if you don't mind Malfoy, I want to leave, so move out of the way, or I swear, I'll be the one cursing _you_." She threatened with a finality that meant she couldn't be argued with. Malfoy was back to looking impassive by now, observing her with a stillness that unnerved her.

He didn't respond to her demand, not verbally, but after a few seconds, he did move to the side to let her pass. She had feared he wouldn't move at all.

Moving forward slowly, her wand still aimed at him, Hermione made her way over to where her bag had been discarded on the floor. She picked it up quickly, before backing up towards the door. Still Malfoy didn't move, or say a word. When she turned to leave, intending to bolt out the door, his voice stopped her.

His soft, uncharacteristically pleading, voice.

"Stay out of this, Hermione. Please."

He didn't need to say what she had to stay out of. She knew. The war was approaching faster by the day. What really confused her was why he had used her first name. He never, ever called her Hermione.

Her hand stopped in mid air as she reached for the door handle, her breath catching at the sound of her name coming from his lips. She didn't turn around, but she did answer.

"You know I can't, Draco." She whispered, before bolting out the door, not daring to look back at him.

She never, ever called him Draco.


	4. Snakes & Lions

Draco was reading when his personal house elf, Trixy appeared in his room. When his presence was not needed, he always sought sanctuary in his bedroom, the only place where he could get away with avoiding his pathetic father, and even crazier aunt.

He had never considered himself a 'bookworm' so to speak, but as soon as he had left Hogwarts he had starting reading more, his personal collection increasing as he tried to distract himself from the horrors that happened below him in the dungeons and ground floor rooms of the Manor. However, no matter how hard he tried, the books he submerged himself in couldn't block out the screams that echoed through the building like whispers in the wind.

It was even worse when his aunt or Merlin forbid, the Dark Lord, made him watch.

Suffice to say, the Malfoy Manor didn't feel like his home anymore. It was just a bunch of old bricks and beams now, forever haunted by ghosts.

"Trixy, if my Aunt wants me to watch her play with her toys, tell her I'm not in the mood." Draco drawled from where he sat in his favorite armchair, the piece of furniture carefully positioned so he could look out the window and observe the grounds. He turned a page over in the book as he spoke, not taking his eyes off the printed words to address the small house elf.

Normally, Trixy would understand instantly, vanishing again to relay his message to his aunt, who would either then proceed to demand for his presence downstairs, or forget about him completely. The latter rarely happened, but it never hurt to try.

However, this time the small house elf stayed, nervously shifting her feet as she prepared to speak, which made Draco pause in thought while he observed her from the corner of his eye. Trixy was rarely nervous in front of him since he treated her much more fairly than his father did, so her anxiety had to mean something was seriously wrong.

"You do not have a choice, Master Draco. Mistress Bellatrix has demanded your presence immediately." She declared in a small voice as Draco's eyes shot up to look at her.

"Do you know why?" He asked as he stood up, failing to stop the frown forming on his face or the sense of dread that settled in his stomach. He moved to place the book back on his bookshelf, turning so he had his back to Trixy.

"Trixy saw the bad men bring in three new prisoners, Master Draco. Said one of them was Harry Potter, Trixy heard."

Draco instantly froze, his hand suspended in mid air where he had been about to place the book back. The colour had drained from his face about the same time his eyes had widened. He didn't care much for Potter, but since there were three prisoners, that changed everything.

Draco whirled round to face Trixy, completely forgetting about his previous objective to place the book back.

"Harry Potter, you're sure they said Harry Potter?"

"Yes, Master Draco."

"Trixy, was one of the prisoners a girl? Brown hair, brown eyes?"

"Trixy is not sure Master Draco…"

"Yes or no, Trixy. Was there a girl with brown hair and brown eyes?" Draco demanded, grabbing the poor house elf and shaking her to get her to answer quicker.

"Y-Yes, Trixy thinks so, Master Draco." Trixy shakily replied, not used to his behaviour. The poor elf looked terrified, but at that point Draco was panicking too much internally to care.

Hermione Granger was in his house. The Hermione Granger was in his house. With his parents. Oh Merlin, with his _aunt_.

Well, now they were definitely screwed.

Draco stood back up, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He raised his hands and instantly grabbed his hair, pulling on the pale strands so much it hurt. Without thinking, he started to pace back and forth, Trixy frowning up at him at the sight.

"Is Master Draco alright?"

"No, Trixy, I'm not alright. Do I look bloody look alright?" He was shouting now, he knew he was. He couldn't help it, nor could he stop acting so hysterical.

"No, Master."

"Stop calling me that!" He yelled, finally snapping. He'd told her numerous times to call him just Draco over the previous months, wanting to do everything to make himself different from his father, including how he treated the house elves. However, Trixy never listened, which normally he could tolerate but his patience had seemed to disappear the moment thoughts of Granger entered his mind.

In response to his outburst, Trixy instantly recoiled, backing away in fear. The sight made Draco's eyes soften, regret flooding his body. _Now_ he was acting like his father.

"Trixy, I…" Draco moved forward, but the house elf just flinched, halting him in his tracks. In the end, he settled on just sighing.

Turning around, Draco walked over to his bed and collapsed onto it, placing his head in his hands while he sat on the edge of his bed. He was running out of time. He needed to go downstairs, there was only so long his aunt would wait, and then he would have to watch whatever unfolded in front of him, helpless to save her.

The thought made Draco shake with blind fury and before he could stop himself he grabbed a lamp off his bedside table and threw it at the wall. The object broke apart on impact, shattering into pieces as it crashed to the floor. There was no doubt someone had heard that too.

And wasn't that bloody brilliant?

Draco groaned into his hands, before rubbing his forehead with his fingers with his eyes still closed. He took a deep breath as he sat there, internally cursing everyone and everything that had caused him to end up in this situation. The feeling of a small hand on his knee made him open his eyes, only to find Trixy standing in front of him.

"Can Trixy help Master Draco?" She asked tentatively this time, still quite nervous. Draco sighed again in response.

"No, Trixy you can't. Not unless you can help the prisoners escape." He muttered bitterly.

"Trixy can apparate other people Master Draco." The house elf reminded him. House elves were the only ones who could pass through the Manor's wards without a problem, along with the people who owned the house themselves.

"You could get them out of here?" He asked, a spark of hope igniting in his chest. Maybe, just maybe…

"Yes, Trixy thinks so." She answered, more confidently this time now Draco's face had brightened. He stood up and began to pace again, his mind racing as he tried to concoct a plan.

"No, its too dangerous. My aunt would kill you if she found out. It would implicate me too since you're not a free elf…" Draco stopped pacing abruptly, an idea suddenly flooding his mind. He quickly spun to face Trixy, his eyes wide with realization. "Trixy, you remember Dobby don't you?"

"Master, we must not speak that name in this house!" Trixy exclaimed worridly.

"I don't care about that right now, Trixy. Do you know where Dobby is?" He asked quickly. There was a long pause before the elf decided to answer.

"Trixy may know, Master Draco."

"Can you deliver him a message? Immediately, if possible?"

"Trixy thinks so, Master Draco."

"Good. That's good. I want you to go and tell him immediately that Harry Potter has been captured and is now being held at Malfoy Manor. Don't tell anyone what you're doing. Can you do that?"

"Of course, Master Draco. Trixy serves to please Master Draco."

"Good. Now, go! Go!" In response to his order, the small house elf apparated with a 'pop', leaving Draco alone in his room. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, turning to view himself in the mirror. His hair was a mess by this point, sticking up in numerous directions because of his anxious habits, and his face was a mix of dozens of conflicting emotions.

Taking a deep breath, Draco smoothed his hair down so it looked presentable, fixed his robes and forced his normal sneering façade onto his face. Now he was ready.

Draco reached the door with a few quick strides and after taking another calming breath, he pulled the door open and left the room. He let his usual confidence melt into his every step as he made his way through the Manor, and before long he was walking down the main staircase, voices drifting to ears from the direction of the parlor.

He saw Granger first, held by one of the snatchers. He knew as soon as he saw her that she hadn't been harmed, at least not yet, and it took all his inner willpower to hide not just the unwanted relief at seeing her alive, but also the recognition when he saw her face.

His internal reaction at seeing Weasely and Potter, however, were far from emotions such as relief. Even with his face messed up, Draco could still recognize the infamous Chosen One anywhere, much to his absolute horror. After all, if he confirmed Potter's identity, not only would it be the equivalent of a death sentence for Potter, Granger would be as good as dead too. The Dark Lord didn't tolerate mudbloods after all, and would probably kill her as soon as he arrived just to spite Potter. And the thought of that only succeeded in making Draco feel sick.

Both outcomes were scenarios Draco wanted to avoid for as long as possible, especially since as long as Potter lived, there was a small hope that maybe the Dark Lord could be defeated. He knew such traitorous thoughts could get him killed, but they crossed his mind all the same. Plus, for all the times he tormented Potter, although there had been hatred behind the words he spoke, he never physically harmed him, or anyone else. He didn't want to hurt anyone, even Potter, and he certainly didn't have the stomach to see him die. Words left scars mentally, sure, but they survived. They got over it. Dead though? Dead was different. There was no coming back from that.

He'd realized as soon as the war started that this was not a world he wanted to live in, and it certainly wasn't the dream he had imagined when he was still a child, his father drilling the ideals and beliefs of a pureblood society into his brain long before he could walk. Compared to that innocent, childish dream, this world was nightmare. A very dark, and twisted nightmare.

So Draco did exactly what he had become skilled at during the last few years: he lied.

"Well?" His aunt asked him, looking expectantly at him for an answer. He forced himself to keep his face impassive, determined to not let anyone see the internal chaotic conflict that raged inside him.

"I can't be sure." He managed to say, deciding a lie based on truth was the best way to go. Potter's face was completely messed up, and if Draco hadn't known him for so long he wouldn't have recognized him.

His father came up to his side then, grabbing his neck and leaning in close. Draco kept his eyes focused on the floor at his feet, not being able to stop the way his whole body tensed at his father's touch. Ever since the Dark Lord had rescued him from Azkaban, his father hadn't been the same. Gone was the usual confidence and prideful ego he normally associated with his father, replaced by a fearful and anxious personality, turning his father into a man who only pretended to be strong when in reality, he was just a pathetic, cowering mess who drowned out his fears with a steady supply of alcohol, usually strong firewhisky. All the respect he had had for his father had more or less packed its bags and apparated away, anger aimed at his father for making him and his mother clean up his mess replacing it instead.

"Draco, look closely son." His father paused, glancing around the room before he continued, the pungent odor of alcohol lacing his every breath. "If we were the ones to hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, all would be forgiven. Everything would be back to how it was, understand?" His father smiled at him, but Draco didn't find comfort in it. He knew his father was ordering him, rather than asking, and even though his respect for his father had diminished, he nodded his head to show his obedience. More than that, he wanted everything to go back to the way it was too, even though he knew that era had long since passed. Too much had changed now, and so had he.

"Now we won't be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope, Mr Malfoy." The snatcher interrupted, causing a red-hot rage to well up behind his father's eyes.

"You dare to talk to me like that in my own HOUSE!" His father's voice had started out as a whisper, before ending in an enraged shout that made it very hard for Draco to not flinch. However, as always, his mother quickly took hold of the situation.

"Lucius." She hissed, grabbing his unstable father and already starting to lead him away. Draco just returned his eyes to the floor, trying his hardest to avoid eye contact with his father as his mother led him away. It was only when his aunt addressed him that he finally looked up again.

"Don't be shy, sweetie. Come over." His aunt grabbed his hand and led him towards Potter, who was now kneeling on the floor. He slowly sunk down to Potter's height, his eyes locking with the eyes of the Boy Who Lived for the first time since he'd seen him. As usual, Potter's eyes stared defiantly back at him, no doubt waiting for him to confirm it was him, that they had caught the Chosen One. But Draco didn't.

Meanwhile, his aunt had already started talking again, though Draco blocked her voice out. He had no intention of giving his aunt a reason to call the Dark Lord, even if he hated Potter's guts. His eyes must have revealed his thoughts for Potter's own eyes soon changed from defiant to pleading, obviously realizing Draco had recognized him long ago, but still unsure about what Draco was planning to reveal. Draco just stared back, frowning slightly at the state Potter's face was in.

"What's wrong with his face?" He asked instead of confirming Potter's identity, trying to stall for time. His eyes stayed locked with Potter's.

"Yes, what is wrong with his face?"

"He came to us like that. Something he picked up in the forest, I reckon."

"Or ran into a stinging jinx." His aunt turned to look at Granger, pointing an accusing finger at her. "Was it you, dear?" Draco tried to not react, his aunt's words suddenly going through him. Why was it always Granger? "Give me her wand, we'll see what her last spell was." His aunt ordered, just as his mother came up behind him and tapped his shoulder. He locked eyes with Potter one last time before standing up and turning around.

By that point his aunt was laughing at the fear painted in both Granger and the Weasel's eyes, before she suddenly stopped in her tracks, eyes locked on the sword one of the snatchers was carrying.

"What's that? Where'd you get that from?" She breathed, his aunt looking shocked for the first time since he'd known her. In fact, if Draco didn't know better, he'd say his aunt even sounded…afraid.

"It was in her bag when we searched her. Reckon it's mine now." The snatcher smirked, grinning at his fortune. However, Draco knew better, and by the look on his aunt's face, he'd debate it was a great misfortune that the snatcher had acquired it. Only a few seconds later he was proved right, his aunt quickly taking down all the snatchers in the room with a speed and skill that had unnerved him before, and was successfully doing so again. This was why he made sure to never get on her bad side.

Of course, the feeling of dread that crawled its way into his stomach only increased tenfold when his aunt grabbed the Weasel, dragging him away from Granger.

"Cissie, put the boys in the cellar." His mother stepped forward, grabbing the Weasel and Potter from his aunt and forcing them towards Wormtail, while his aunt stood in front of Granger, dangerously close. Draco swallowed uneasily, hoping against hope that he was wrong about what was going to come next.

"I'm going to have a conversation with this one." His aunt continued. "Girl. To. Girl."

And that was when Draco's blood ran cold.

* * *

Draco closed his eyes at he sight of Granger sprawled out on the floor, the image of her crimson blood slowly pouring out of the jagged word cut into her arm.

Mudblood, it spelt.

He'd used the name numerous times, used it on her even more but now, the sight of the letters that formed that word made him want to vomit.

The insult was supposed to label the person with inpure blood, dirty blood – a status that was inferior and often associated with being as low as the mud on the ground. In fact, his father had even told him once when he was a child that Muggle-borns had blood that was the colour of mud, which was why they had earned that name.

But her blood wasn't brown, like the mud on the ground was. Her blood was a blinding red that stood out against her pale skin. The same colour as his.

And in that moment, he knew he'd never call her that name ever again, even though he had never meant it before anyway. The malice behind the words had stopped being real not long before the Yule Ball and Luna, being the observant and brilliant girl she was, had been the only one to notice.

He knew he had changed immensely since their first years, but Draco also knew he was still an arrogant, selfish coward. He would always prefer to run away from danger rather than face it, as long as it meant his survival. Although he loathed himself for it, he knew he was like his father in that sense.

However, that didn't mean he hadn't inherited his mother's traits. In fact, sometimes he was too much like her for his own good, just like now. Although it was hard to earn, once someone had earned his mother's loyalty, they would be forever protected by it. She had stood by his father through everything, even protecting his father from the wrath of the dark lord countless times. In fact, she had protected him too, going behind his back to make Snape swear to protect him with the Unbreakable Vow. She would do anything for him, even defy the Dark Lord himself.

And Draco knew he was no different. His loyalty had always been for his parents, for his mother even more so. It was why he had been prepared to kill Dumblebore – the Dark Lord hadn't just threatened to kill him if he had failed.

The problem was, over the years, Granger had earned his loyalty too. It hadn't taken long for him to realize he would do anything for her. It was why he had continued to push her away, even when he came to revelation that he didn't despise her anymore. She didn't deserve someone like him – he knew he would ruin her.

He hated himself for feeling so strongly about her in situations like this because he couldn't be selfish around her. He just couldn't. Common sense would tell him to stay put, to not act, to not care. It had been the same at the Yule Ball, but he hadn't been able to leave her then and he couldn't now. He did care, more than he thought was possible, and every time she screamed, it had been like knives were being driven through his insides, going right through him as they tore him apart from the inside-out.

Now, as he watched his aunt prowl around Granger like a cat that was playing with a mouse, raising her wand to prepare to perform the cruciatus curse, something inside Draco snapped. His brain shut down, his instincts taking over. He didn't think. He just _acted_.

With quick, long strides, Draco was standing in front of Hermione within seconds, just as his aunt screamed 'crucio' intending for it to hit Hermione. But the curse didn't hit her. The curse hit _him_.

His back arched when the curse hit, a scream tearing through his throat before he quickly stopped it, biting down on his tongue instead. Pain flooded his entire body, making him feel like he was burning from the inside and being torn apart all at the same time. It felt like it carried on for longer than it did, but in reality it was only seconds, his aunt lifting the curse as soon as she registered that she had hit him.

As soon as the pain stopped, his legs buckled, making him fall to his knees as he gasped for air. He squeezed his eyes shut in pain, his body still screaming from the onslaught. It was only then that he registered what he had done.

Gasping for breath, he looked up, only to lock eyes with his aunt, her face flooded with shock. In any other circumstance the expression would actually look quite comical, and Draco knew he would have probably laughed. But this wasn't any normal situation. In fact, from a certain point of view, some people would say he had just committed _treason_.

And from the look that slowly crawled its way onto his aunt's face, Draco knew Bellatrix believed in that point of view.

"What do you think you're doing, Draco?" His aunt asked, disbelief mixed in with anger as she finally came to her senses. "Be a good boy and move out of the way, Draco. We can deal with your little mistake later." She ground out, gesturing with her wand for him to move. He didn't like the way she said 'little' - her tone promised nothing but punishment.

He should have stood up and walked away to stand with his parents, but then again, he should have done a lot of things. He'd made so many mistakes and as a result, had even more regrets. He turned his gaze to his parents, first to his father whose face had morphed into a mixed expression of both fury and utter astonishment - it seemed he could surprise the man after all. Then his gaze moved to his mother, who just like his father, seemed to not be able to believe the sight that stood before her, her pureblood son saving not just the enemy, but a muggleborn to boot.

However, for all his mother's shock, and perhaps anger too, their was one a emotion he did not like to see on her face: fear.

Draco dropped his gaze to the floor, his breath still uneven as his body continued to ache and protest at even the slightest movements. It was only then that he became aware of the goosebumps rising on the back of his neck, a clear indication someone was watching him from behind.

Turning his head, Draco instantly met the wide, disbelieving eyes of Hermione Granger. She was still laying limp on the floor, too weak and too defeated to move. Tear tracks stained her face, but that didn't stop him from thinking she looked beautiful, even in the worn clothes she was wearing. His perfect, little witch.

And in that moment, seeing her like that, Draco knew what he was going to do. He was a coward, but not when it came to her.

"Draco, come. Move out of your aunt's way." His mother's voice ordered, causing him to look away from Granger. There was no fear in his mother's voice, but from the way her eyes flickered to her sister's form, Draco knew she was worried. His aunt was completely mad after all, and his mother knew her sister's loyalties only stretched so far when it came to family. Bellatrix would turn on them in an instant. She was unpredictable and dangerous like that.

Slowly, and rather painfully, Draco forced himself to stand. His parents and his aunt both watched him, and from their faces, he knew they expected him to move away, to back down. But they were wrong.

Draco's face hardened in defiance as he stood up to his full height.

* * *

 **Now, I am well aware Draco is out of character for this chapter, and I debated for a long time whether or not I should completely rewrite it. After all, Draco is no Griffindor and therefore, not brave. But bravery doesn't have to be loud, shown off for all the world to see. Bravery for one person can be normality for another, and the way I see it, Griffindors are only seen as brave because they are often impulsive, quick to jump into to action before completely thinking about the consequences. They're loud and flashy, just like the typical lion. But lions have to work together to bring down their prey, and the male lions aren't normally the ones that hunt. The lioness' have that job. Snakes, however, can bring down their prey all on their own, prey often twice their size may I add, and are often more feared that the lion. They're not loud or flashy, but they are deadly. Now, isn't that curious?**

 **In this chapter, Draco is well aware of the consequences of his choices, which is why in this AU he's the one to send for Dobby. He also stalls for time, which is a subtle but still equally important. Draco's bravery is the type of courage that no-one talks about because you never see it, much like how people never realised how brave Snape was. Draco's bravery, and all his other emotions, are of the quiet kind, making them more powerful, and therefore more deadly.**


	5. Authors Note

**Hi, guys! Haven't updated this story in a while, but here's my excuse:**

 **I think I'm not going to continue this story and leave it more as a bunch of one-shots. If inspiration hits, I'll probably come back to it but I wouldn't count on it. I'm terrible at keeping my promises and I've come to the conclusion that I need to start making promises that I know I can keep.**

 **However, I am writing a different Harry Potter fanfiction right now and have so far written 6 chapters already, including a prologue. It will have eventual Dramione, but I'm going to make the story part of a set of possibly five stories (like how Harry Potter is seven books) and Dramione won't fully be in action until the very end. Apart from that, I can't tell you much other than it's going to focus on Draco and his perspective on his way through Hogwarts, but with a serious twist. I'm also planning on writing the whole first story before posting it so I don't end up where I am now, with numerous stories that are unfinished. In the long run it's going to be more productive and better for you readers. If you're interested, I posted the prologue as a sort of teaser, to see if anyone likes where its going.**

 **And what's the name of this new story you ask?**

 **'Dragonborn: The Awakening'**


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